


Without Warning

by AndreaChristoph



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Found Family, Gen, MurderVision Bonding, Team as Family, surrogate daughter, surrogate father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 04:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19822486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaChristoph/pseuds/AndreaChristoph
Summary: Flynn and Jiya share a moment in the hospital after he and Lucy are injured in a grenade blast.(MurderVision bonding, set post-Chinatown, pre-Rufus saving; not part of the Darkest Timeline universe.)





	Without Warning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DraejonSoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraejonSoul/gifts).



> This is a result of a prompt, but I decided I didn't want to shove it in with my shorter prompts a la Tales from the Multiverse, so I made it a standalone. 
> 
> Prompt was: "Jiya tending to Flynn’s wounds and struggling to console him while Lucy is in critical condition nearby"

The moment he wakes up in the hospital, he knows something is very, very wrong. There’s nothing outwardly wrong - hell, the room is downright peaceful - but he can feel something deep in his bones, something that burns in his chest, a feeling he hasn’t had since a quiet night four years ago.

Before he has a chance to haul himself out of bed (whether or not he could manage it in his half-drugged state isn’t the point), Jiya appears at the door, a coffee in one hand and a bottle in the other.

“You’re finally awake.” She smiles, clearly relieved, and holds the bottle out for him to take. “Got you an orange juice in case you came-to.”

“What...what happened?” He squints at her, the bright lights from the hallway blinding him. Jiya traces his eyeline, then rushes to the door to close it, leaving them with just the reading light over his bed to illuminate the room. Flynn eases himself into a sitting position and Jiya lifts the head of the bed further so he has some support.

“A grenade went off just as we reached the Lifeboat. Luckily we were close enough that we could haul you and Lucy into your seats.”

He sits up abruptly, his heart suddenly beating faster. “Where is Lucy?”

“She’s down the hall.”

“Is she okay?” His eyes flick down to the IV line trailing from the back of his hand and he debates just how bad an idea it would be to rip it out and go track Lucy down.   


Unfortunately, Jiya knows him all too well, and places a hand over his both as a gesture of comfort and also to tell him to stay put. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Flynn, she’s...not great. But they’re working on it. And we all know from past experience how tough Lucy is.”

“What happened to her?” he chokes out, trying not to let his fear overtake him.

“Shrapnel. She was closest to the blast.”

“Why was she the one covering our rear, that doesn’t make any sense-”

“She wasn’t.” Jiya gives him a pointed look. “You were. She just spotted the grenade first, and...well.” She shrugs. “She was already shoving you out of the way when we realized what was happening.”

She’d shielded him from the hit? He can’t decide whether he’d rather berate her for being so foolish or thank her for potentially saving his life. If it was at the cost of her own life, however, he’s not sure he’d be able to live with that trade-off.

“Can I see her?” he asks softly.

“Not yet.” The sympathy in her eyes is killing him. “She’s still in surgery. None of the shrapnel went deep, but there was a lot of it.”

“I can’t just sit here.”

“I know. But you’re gonna have to.” She flops into the seat next to his bed and takes a long chug of her coffee before crossing her arms, a frown on her face as she stares at nothing.

“You okay?” he asks, finally cracking open the juice she’d given him and taking a sip. Jiya nods, but staunchly avoids making eye contact, and they sit in an awkward silence for a moment before she sighs.

“I hate hospitals,” she says quietly, and he’s not sure whether she’s talking more to him or herself, and so waits for her to continue instead. “My  _ abi  _ was in the hospital for the last month before he passed away.”

“Your father?”

She nods. “Cancer. Started in his pancreas but spread fast. By the very end he wasn’t himself anymore. It was hard to visit him every day and see less and less recognition in his eyes.”

Flynn nods, his face grim. “I’m not a fan of them myself. My daughter was born premature and spent the first month of her life in the NICU, and my wife nearly bled out. I remember thinking ‘this could be it, you could lose them both today’. Thankfully they both got through it.” He smiles to himself as he recalls the memory, both beautiful and painful. “When I lifted Iris out of her incubator for the first time and her tiny hand grabbed my finger, I swore I’d never let anything happen to her again.” He clears his throat roughly - damned if he was going to cry in front of Jiya.

But rather than shifting awkwardly in her seat (or worse, leaving entirely), Jiya again rests her hand on his and squeezes lightly. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at him, simply offers the comfort of her presence. Her hand is laughably small on his, and he can’t help but smile; though she was small and slender, he’d still been deeply impressed with her courage and strength in spite of it on the few missions they’d been on since she took over as their main pilot. For one thing, she was an excellent shot, no doubt having practiced during her 3 years in San Francisco circa 1888, but it was more than that. She wasn’t afraid to charge in first, didn’t back down from a fight or argument (at times to her own detriment).   


In a lot of ways she reminded him of himself, which only made the guilt worse. He wouldn’t wish  _ that  _ on anyone, least of all the plucky programmer who had once radiated sunshine and been the optimist of the team, keeping their spirits up when things were at their worst.

But there was also no one else he wanted next to him in the foxhole. Maybe Wyatt had more experience with weapons and strategy, and he definitely was more use in a hand-to-hand fight, but with Jiya he knew he could count on her to watch his back, and with her nearby he didn’t have to worry that she might be taken out and he wouldn’t reach her in time.

It was only recently he’d recognized the fear when he couldn’t protect her for what it was. Not that he’d verbalized it. Not that he’d know how to.

It didn’t seem to matter. Something in their dynamic had changed without them noticing. When she’d have nightmares every few nights, he was the first one to her bedside, stroking her hair and hushing her until she fell back asleep. When she cried on the couch during a movie (one she’d often watched with Rufus, he found out later), Flynn sat next to her in silence, not reacting when she rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself.

And then there was the breakfast incident. The one they’d not talked about. It had been Flynn’s turn for breakfast duty one morning, and he’d opted to make pancakes. Most of the team had been happy with the basic chocolate chip, but Jiya had asked him to throw a spoonful of peanut butter in with the batter for hers.   


When he set down the pancakes in front of her, she’d smiled brightly and, without seeming to even think about it, murmured, “Thanks dad.”

Thankfully, the rest of the team hadn’t heard it, too wrapped up in their morning conversations to pay much attention, but Jiya had blushed a deep shade of red and stammered, “Flynn, I meant Flynn.”   


He didn’t address it in any way, merely ate his own breakfast and then headed to shower. He never did tell her that he’d cried back in his room, images of Iris sitting at the table with a massive stack of pancakes in front of her playing on repeat in his mind. But as painful as the reminder had been, it was also a comfort of sorts. He knew Jiya had been without her father, or indeed any of her family, for some time. It was a role he’d almost forgotten how to play, a role he’d lost the day Iris was taken from him, and it made him feel just a bit more human, one of the few things that did anymore.

“Well,” Jiya says, getting to her feet and tossing her coffee cup into a nearby trashcan, “I should probably go check on how Lucy is doing.”

Flynn nods, then freezes as Jiya takes a step closer and leans in. She wraps her arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug, a hug that he eventually returns with one arm.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Jiya says softly, giving him one more tight squeeze for good measure before letting him go. “Really. I am.”

Flynn smiles, his heart in his throat. He never would have imagined when he stepped into the bunker so long ago that he’d gain the family he had, and especially not in the form of a surrogate daughter. It was both a comfort and a terrifying thought - but being a father had always been like that. He’d gotten so used to tucking his heart away that he had forgotten what it felt like to wear it on his sleeve.

“Better have a coffee for me when you come back,” he says wryly, giving her a good-natured smirk, and Jiya laughs.

“Sir yes sir.” She gives him a mock salute, then disappears out the door, leaving him in silence once more. He stares at the spot where she’d just been standing for a moment before settling back on the bed, a tight feeling in his chest as the ghost of her hug clings to him.

He had failed in his promise to his first daughter. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.  



End file.
